Tonight, at this table, we remember
we remember another table, in another place and time
not a sanctuary but an upper room
where friends gathered to celebrate their sacred meal
the Passover
and to remember what God had done for them.
We remember the beginning
before the beginning
where there was nothing
chaos and void
and a God who wanted more
who dreamed up stars
and rivers
and creatures
and us.
We remember God’s breath
each time we breathe.
We remember who formed us.
We remember, as the disciples did,
the story of Passover.
We remember—or we try to—
that our spiritual ancestors
were slaves in Egypt.
We remember how Pharoah lied
that they belonged to him
and not God.
But the Israelites remembered,
and trusted,
and God freed them.
Working alongside Moses
and Miriam, God brought them out of Egypt
through the deep waters,
across the vast desert,
to a land of promise
a land of milk and honey.
We remember how they feasted.
We remember Sinai Mountain
where God said “I will be their God
and they will be my people.”
We remember
how the people forgot.
We remember how they were distracted from you,
by idols, and riches, and power.
We remember how they said,
“we can do this alone.”
We remember how they said,
“we’d rather have a human King
than have to trust a wild God.”
We remember the prophets,
men and women who cried out
Remember your God! Remember God’s faithfulness!
Return to God. Come, buy bread without cost,
at the feast of God.
We remember the days of pain
days of war
and bloodshed
and exile.
We remember how the banquet halls fell silent
and the temples were torn down
and your people were forced
to rely on you again
to remember you
in their hearts alone.
And we remember how they discovered
when you have nothing else left
how powerful memory can be.
We remember how they waited for redemption,
a messiah, salvation.
And we remember how it came,
not grandly or with cosmic fanfare,
but as a child
who grew into a man.
We remember Jesus,
carpenter’s son,
who taught scripture,
and healed the sick,
and ran demons out of town.
We remember how he ate with the wrong people,
sinners and conmen and religious know-it-alls.
We remember how much he loved a feast,
water turned to wine, loaves and fish multiplied
into thousands of meals
to share with God’s hungry people.
We remember how he was kind,
and brave and strange
how he could see God’s kingdom,
where the rest of us only saw a bush or a bird.
We remember how he taught us to pray,
taught us how to be close to our heavenly creator, saying
Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil, for thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory forever. Amen.
We remember how he gathered his friends
in that upper room,
to celebrate God’s faithfulness.
We remember how he knew—
though his friends did not—
that this would be an ending,
a last supper together—
but not the ending.
There would be breakfast.
But for now, we remember
how even when he could look around
and know not one person there would stay with him
when suffering came,
he was still glad to be with them
glad to offer himself to them.
We remember how he took a loaf of bread from the table.
We remember how he blessed it, as he always did.
We remember how he broke it.
We remember his words:
“This is my body, broken for you.
Do this in remembrance of me.”
We remember how he took the cup,
and gave thanks for it.
We remember the words:
“This is my blood of the covenant,
which is poured out for many
so that their sins may be forgiven.
As often as you drink it, remember me.”
Remember me.
This is what he asks of us:
eat, drink, and remember.
Remember the one whose love was so strong
that it faced death
and won.
Come, the meal is ready
ready for you.
Jesus has set a place for you
so come, not because I invite you
but because he did
a very long time ago.
Come to the table of grace.
Closing Prayer
In this is love:
not that we loved God
because we tried
and failed
but that God first loved us
always loved us
loved us
with the gentleness that washes our feet
with the generosity that feeds our souls
with the strength that endures suffering
with the peace that forgives
with the power that shapes us
into echoes of that great Love.
In this is love:
that by God’s love,
we too might love,
however imperfectly.
That we might see a world
where all are gathered together to eat
to rejoice
and to remember
that Love is the first rule of our life together
that we are all children together
filled with God’s breath
and held in God’s heart.
Amen.
Deep Well Worship 